The Spectators of Twelve
by healer96
Summary: Katniss and Peeta left behind District Twelve for the 74th Hunger Games. But how did their friends and families cope with watching their every move on screen? Multiple POVs from both OCs and Canon. DISCONTINUED.
1. Zarren: The Reaping

So, I've had this idea for a while and finally decided to put it to the paper.

I'm new to this so feedback's much appreciated.

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Zarren woke from his dream groaning when he gained a coherent thought process, it hadn't made particularly good slumber but it was a high compared to the nightmares he usually suffered from on this date ever since he had turned eleven- five, strenuous years ago.

For today was the reaping, when two kids he knew reasonably well would be put in a random wood filled with traps and be killed by some giant from a high level district- it wasn't Zarren's favourite day of the year to put it gently.

He forced himself out of bed, realising that with everyone's' emotions running so high sale prices would be prime.

After exchanging his pyjamas for his crumpled clothing that he left on the floor yesterday, he headed downstairs.

The house was empty so that meant his parents must be in the shop attached to his home already.

They seemed to have left a basket on the table;

On closer inspection the wicker structure was filled with sweets of bright and cheerful colours to mirror the districts current mood.

Mr Mellark must have ordered them in the hope that the post-reaping celebrations would urge some of the town-families to buy cakes. Lovely ideas, that man has . . .

He also found a note and a number of coins from his father:

Zarren,

Here's some money for the betting,

Put it all on that hunting boy- can't remember his name.

He has about 40-something slips in this year,

Chances are he'll get reaped.

-Fa

Of course, the odds were in his favour the time round when it came to betting on Gale, a boy a few years older Zarren from the Seam;

He spent his time, as far as the youth of Twelve could tell, behind the intimidating electrocuting fence in a wood of carnivorous animals- how he's not been horribly injured, it's anyone's guess.

Zarren shook his head to clear the thoughts taking the basket, heading out the door and towards the bakery.

It was quite near his sweetshop, hardly even a minute away, but as Zarren lived practically directly opposite of the square he was delayed, stuck staring at the familiar set up for the annual occasion in only a few hours.

The fun staring and gulping at that sight evaporated after what felt like an eternity and Zarren managed to stumble his way out of sight from Twelve' central socialising spot.

Mr Mellark was in the entrance/kitchen of the bakery when the teenager entered after a strong knock, he was taking a loaf of bread out the oven, we exchange greetings and I give him the vibrantly-hued sugar treats.

He told me he'll 'have Peeta drop them on them' and pointed over towards multiple fresh and newly iced cakes cooling on the window-ledge and tells me said son was in his room and watches me go up the stairs.

"Hey," Zarren gave a small grin as he entered through the old rickety door.

"Happy Hunger Games," was a listless reply from Peeta, ever the wit, not even looking up from his hands.

Zarren's good emotion faded as he observed Peeta almost sadly.

His friend had always been the strongest contender for 'most sensitive Twelver kid' and the Reaping really got to him, ever since school had started and became friends with the potential-tributes.

Zarren knew from experience that if Peeta looked up, his pupils would be almost larger than his bright blue irises, and he could already tell that his sandy-blonde hair was ridiculously ruffled from continuous tossing and turning, stuck in nightmares that matched his naturally groggy-looking brunette, green-eyed friends'.

"The Reaping's set up," He said, moving forward to lounge on the bed with Peeta.

That managed to make him raise his head, pulling a face he sighed, "You scared?"

"Nah, there's not much of a chance we'll get reaped, is there."

A thoughtful silence followed Zarren's statement, "I guess not . . . Who's the lucky kid getting betted on this year?"

Of course discussing Zarren's fathers' betting choices was an annual as strong as the reaping itself.

"Uh- Gale, you know, the guy who hunts with Katniss?"

Peeta's head jerked slightly at that reply, he probably had talked with him or something, Zarren mused, interested at his friends' reaction.

"He came by today," Peeta told him, his voice emotionless, "Looked worried."

"I think the whole of Twelve will be if he's reaped; Him 'nd Katniss are acting as our main food source nowadays."

"True," Peeta agreed giving a shrug of his shoulders, "I think the reaping's soon, you better get going," Peeta's monotone voice told Zarren, who couldn't wait for the whole games to be over again, he hated it when his friend was self-sealed in his own little box, then, depending on the two tributes, would get either annoyed for the next month or so, or he would get furious- the boy could flare his anger to the highest extents- even Zarren had to admit it gave him a shiver down his spine to be reminded of the last time it had happened.

"Urgh, yeah you're right," Zarren groaned stretching his armed, "See ya Peeta."

He left the bakery and headed for an old, dusty building he knew as 'The Hob.'

Zarren found this name . . . . odd, and the people inhabiting the place even odder.

It was Twelve's resident black market, full of Seam folk, so they all looked starved and ill- though, for some unknown reason, they were cheerful.

Maybe being part in poverty of the worst kind gives people a sense of family . . . ? He thought as he entered the large room with a pained look on his face.

He tried to stay away from this place as much as possible, but you could win serious amounts through a good bet, which translated to the pro of more food and bedding sounded more comforting than staying clear of some law-breaking creepers by far.

He made his way over to a reasonably sized group of men in the corner of The Hob, though no one ever voiced anything, betting over a child's death sentence was considered sick- as bad as the 'dear old Capitol' who decided the kids.

Zarren approached the cluster, he handed his money out to Geezer, an aging man who people say was driven mad after a mine explosion that killed everyone save him.

"Eeeh, well if it isn't the Dona' boy," Slurred the man, "Here for the betting ? Daddy's still goin' heartless then ?"

Zarren just remained silent, determined to hold his gaze for as long as he physically could . . .

Years ago, must be about twenty-four years of them now, his sister, Maysilee Donner, was reaped.

She made it quite far in the games- until she was attacked by the arena's inhabitors.

That was the year a tribute from her same district won, his name was, is, Haymitch.

After Maysilee died, Zarren's father quit his long-time gambling fix. But there was a mine explosion and no one could afford the sweet delicacies from his wife's inherited shop (Heck, no one could afford a piece of stale bread !)

So gambling made a return. Maysilee's twin, Maeve, became sick and a bit crazy.

And father took back cheating and the thrill of either money-loss or gain.

Zarren pushed these thoughts away and forced the money into Geezer's filthy and wrinkled hand, "It's for Gale to be reaped," He said roughly and walked out the building as fast as he could without losing what precious dignity he had- fully aware of cruel and hard laughter stalking him out.

He ran back to his home, making sure to ignore the square as best he could.

He was stopped as soon as he came in the doorframe by his mother, nagging at him about time.

Time ! The reaping was in a few minutes !

Zarren suddenly gulped and went upstairs to change.

He threw off his shabby casual clothing and swapped it for a clean and pretty much unwrinkled collared shirt and clean trousers.

He came down stairs, reminding himself to breath at regular intervals and stepped outside the door, joining his parents.

Since he was so close to the reaping spot there was no 'this-could-be-the-last-time-I-walk-with-them' moment with them (something he wasn't sure to be thankful or sombre at, a regular problem with the townsfolk).

He stepped into line, smiling briefly at two of his greatest friend standing at either side of him, Peeta and Meriel, and they looked up to the stage.

Effie Trinket was there fussing over her neon hair or her stiff spring-green suit or something else equally as ridiculous.

When the Mayor came up to the podium for his Panem history lecture Zarren looks down, Twelve have heard it so many times now, he can quote it word for word.

He looked up when he heard Meriel attempt to hold down a burst of laughter to see Haymitch's drunken attempt to embrace Trinket and he too has to fight a grin.

Zarren's attention slipped when she was introduced and her perky bubblegum attitude infects his ears.

But then it was the girls' reaping time . . .

_Please don't be Meriel, or Harper, or Waverly, or Delly or Marnie, or Ingrid, or . . . or-_

"Primrose Everdeen !" Trinket's voice rang through the crowd.

_Primrose Everdeen ? Who's Pri- Wait, Everdeen-_

"Katniss," Peeta's gasp told him.

_Ohhh, Katniss' sister . . . Damn ! Katniss' sister ! Twelve years old. Her first reaping. Her first time tribute . . ._

These thoughts were just generating in Zarren's head when said Katniss raced passed them, "I volunteer ! I volunteer as tribute !"

He was taken by surprise at that. _But, but she'll die. What's the point ?_

An audible groan came from Peeta's direction. _Has he ever even talked to her ? He never acts like that at reapings . . . No way ! He doesn't . . ._

Zarren was just coming to turns with this new, in other cirumstances, amusing, fact when the boy's reaping was announced.

His mind snapped into focus and he stared at the hand entering the clear box of names.

He just had time to close his eyes and make his wish before the name was called out.

"Peeta Mellark !"

_What ? Wait, Peeta why're you moving. Peeta ! No . . . Please no ! NO !_

And Peeta took his place as male tribute, and just like that, the rest of the world fell away . . .

Zarren couldn't particularly remember what happened after that.

He was invited to say goodbye to Peeta along with Jax, the third part to their little trio.

They exchanged jokes, tears, advice, pleads, offers to take over his position, and eventually get kicked out by Peacekeepers.

By that time, both Zarren and Jax were empty of tears but the hyperventilation was still there as they watched their friend board the train that would take him to the Capitol. _To the arena. To his last real bed. To his first taste of riches. To his first and last death._


	2. Greasy Sae: The Parade

To Sae, the day of the Reaping had seemed to drag; she knew something bad would happen- she just felt it.

She has assumed it was because bad things were unavoidable.

The Reaping was unavoidable.

The death that was born from it was unavoidable.

Just like the grief.

But Katniss child had been under a looming danger everyday of her life, the old woman could almost hang her head at the reminder that she benefited from that fact, almost. The thought of her being reaped had never come to the old woman's mind.

_The girl always was too brave. Too good at forming masks, _Sae reasoned.

So Katniss having been sent off in a train all the way to the Capitol more than sixteen hours ago was still generating spasms of shock to the stall keeper.

Sae shook away this thought process soon enough, she had a job to do and she was fast becoming late for it.

If you asked a Townie, The Hob had the same atmosphere as any other day;

There was the bustle of stick-thin and moody adults, a few children weaving in and out of crowds and the booming laughter of the regulars at the black market.

The group consisted of the stall owners and single adults who could spare time to talk rather than making fruitless attempts at keeping a family fed and happy.

But to this group, who knew each other so well and could read each others' thoughts with a single glance, something was different.

The crowds were smaller, customers were leaving quickly and empty-handed.

These were the ones who came purely for Game, supplied by a girl who had just been handed a death sentence and by a shocked boy who'll be mourning for a good few decades (from what Sae had depicted by the third year of knowing the two 'friends').

These customers had expressions of surprise and a few had signs of worry becoming noticeable, their hands were shaking, they had furrowed brows and widened eyes.

When Sae reached the group and while she was sighing with sadness, she found them looking at the leavers with a look close to disgust.

"You'd think they'd understand that if one of them goes, the other one'll feel like they've gone too," Acknowledged Jabilo, a dark, stubble haired man with the most intimidating stare Twelve had yet to find anywhere else, even the barbarians at the Hunger Games have never possessed the shiver-inspiring looks he has.

_Which is probably why his stall's so popular . . ._

Jabilo runs the Medical Stand, which is a good name really as long as you put an 'Anti' before it.

The man has three deaths and forty-one people in bed for more than a month under his belt after only two years of Hob business.

His words were met with grunt and hums of agreement and Ripper, the wine dealer- supplying people with loss of brain cells and headaches for two decades running, was opening her mouth to respond when Cray came in and the group headed back to -or just to- their work.

Cray was the Head Peacekeeper, he wasn't a scary man by any means (though a few of the bairns had widened eyes at any interaction with the aging drunk) but slagging off at work wasn't any way to act around him;

Cray allowed the Hob's existence with open arms, _no need to make it clear of exploitation in that fact._

The day past slowly, many visitors entered the warehouse only to leave disappointed and with dirty looks at their backs, but maybe another reason the hours chose to tick on in such a snail-pace manner was because of dread.

The Tribute Parade was starting after work hours, a Parade where the higher in class districts pranced about in silk outfits and seemingly glowing skin and the lowest, being Twelve and one or two others, dressed in boring, mediocre and pathetic costumes.

Sae never looked forward to this event, _and who could ? It was humiliating even to watch !_

But this was different, it was someone she knew, someone who helped her stay in business, someone who she would regret to die.

At last when her shift eventually ended and the crowd could file out towards their homes or the square.

Sae's breath caught, there was the large screen stood where, only yesterday the stage that had annually haunted Twelve's main social spot for seventy-four years loomed

She made her way through the crowd until finding a spot she liked- behind a tall, burly man so her view wasn't fantastic, but if she stepped to the side just a few centimetres Sae could see clearly, if she wanted to.

Her heart was beating out of control, she could feel it. There was a curious sensation in her stomach and it was as though hyperventilation would happen at any moment. Sae was scared.

"Ladies and Gentlemen ! Thank you for coming, or tuning in. Welcome to the beginning of The 74th Hunger Games Introductions. Now please raise your hands for _The Tributes_ !"

Sae could've jumped right out of her skin as the screen flickered on and Caesar Flickerman's faultless face burst into the whole countries' eyesight.

The camera swerved away from him and towards a large, grand gate. It was accompanied by booming and familiar music.

Then the gate opens and the districts held their breath . . .

First off was One in a gleaming-white chariot pulled by fresh-snow coloured horses, both of these for two beautiful, jewel-encrusted children.

Sae saw envy in the eyes of some of the girls watching the screen.

Then there was Two, a brute of a young man snarling with a malicious tint in his dark eyes beside a blonde girl with a cruel face.

More districts passed but none made an impression on the audience as much as those two, though Sae took an interest in one boy, he was lame and timid but there was something in his eyes- almost like determination. _Grim and hard determination._

Also a Five girl who had a resemblance to that animal that was sometimes a feature in her broth, _a ferret or . . . it was a time of cat I'm sure. Began with an F, or was it a P ?_

The girl looked smart, she looked scheming, but Sae doubted she looked like a winner if she found herself honest.

More chariots came out: Kids dressed like trees, coated in different fabrics; there was even the usual cow outfit from Ten.

"Ladies and Gentleman . . . District Twelve," Slowly whispered a small dark haired boy beside Sae. He looked fearful, the old lady could understand, she was sure she had seen him with the other tribute, Peeta and the Zarren child after the Reaping

And then they came out;

Two coal black horses trotting grandly, the saddles on their backs connecting them to a chariot of the same colour and on that chariot were flames.

Flames flickering red and orange and yellow, illuminating the faces of two children, but these weren't alike to the starving and depressed of Twelve, these two were laughing and waving and catching everyone in the square's gasps in their throat, they were happy, they were confident, they were winners.

And they were lead out towards the President of Panem's mansion and listened to his speech, of course none of Twelve heard it.

The district was running and screaming and laughing and cheering from giddiness.

And while Sae was quite confident most of them hadn't faced true interaction from either child, she still smiled from how they were making up for it in such a way.

But the question was if they would ever know about it, unanswerable for the time being

And as Ripper made her way through the Euphoria to Sae, she patted her arm, "You know, I think they can win this."

_Only one of them can_, Sae thought to herself sadly but she wasn't in a mood to disagree, "Hmm, me too . . ."


	3. Jax: During Training

**Hi there, so this is pretty late, I lent my friend Hunger Games so I was going to just write this when I got it back, forgetting the whole 'two week holiday' problem -_-**

**Btw, I haven't got it back yet, this is just gonna be based on memory and luck- whoopdidoo :D.**

**Also, do you think I need to put a disclaimer ? I forgot on the past two and nothing's happened- or do people just put it to be safe ?**

Jax weaved his way through the congested crowd in the streets, he groaned as he was blocked once again by another mass of bodies heading to the mine shafts.

_They could've put the school anywhere, absolutely anywhere, and they dump it right next to the mine, _he thought, sighing as he watched the men trudge past him.

Eventually he managed to slip through and headed to a cramped-looking, rundown building of soot-covered bricks and a battered roof;

The building had an unimpressive, battered wooden plaque stating 'DISTRICT TWELVE EDUCATION INSTITUTE' and any available space was covered with names or insults in fading blue ink, Jax winced slightly as he saw 'Zarren Peeta Jax freinds for evar' in the former's messy handwriting.

He stepped into the school and, as now was usual, tried to suppress the outbursts of emotion that was given to him in what he nicknamed the 'Entrance Cupboard', which now had added two black and white pictures onto it's, now rather full, wall.

One was of a nice looking, dark-haired girl with an awkward smile, although her face was facing straight ahead, her eyes had glided down, as if she could see the sticker on her frame naming her to be Katniss Everdeen.

The other was of a blonde boy with large, innocent eyes- he was smiling, but biting his lip, looking straight ahead as if he could see right into Jax's thoughts.

"Hi Peeta," Jax acknowledged in a small voice, barely a whisper and he swallowed and headed down the corridor.

He entered his classroom and was greeted by a shout from Zarren; he nodded and headed to the other side of the classroom where already most of his friends were congregated.

"Alright?" His best friend greeted him, and Jax just shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm gre- better now. Did you check on Pee- his family?"

Zarren nodded, his face turned even grimmer than it had been normally the past few days, "I saw Mr M go to the bathroom when I went round, I was there for an hour, Jax.

He never came out, I could hear him though- I think he must've broke down those shelves he spent all summer on."

"But he's so nice..."

Zarren almost laughed, "I know, it was scary."

"Wow...what about-"

Mrs Mellark's... I dunno, there's nothing different about her, I mean, she's scary I know but ... nothing, at all."

Jax felt disgust flood through his body, but his face masked it, "Everyone acts differently to bad stuff though, she'll be like us really."  
"I don't think so, Jax. Seriously, she doesn't care at-"

Zarren was interrupted by the entrance of their teacher, Mrs Spektor, and everyone stumbled to seats after her coaxing.

"Now class, I know we haven't really done much because of... recent events," She started, and and the whole class tried not to sigh and stared towards the front of the class;

They knew Mrs Spektor, and how Peeta was her favourite, so they knew she was going to make the same, in her eyes, inspirational speech she had made everday for the past week or so.

At least, Jax thought it was a week, since that train had made off with the two children, _Delly Cartwright probably knows the hours_, his mind said dully.

Both Delly and Mrs Spektor took his reaping paticulaly hard, and for that reason, she was the only one listening to the bumbling excuse of a teacher standing by the old desk.

The Mayor's daughter, Madge, at least, Jax thought that was her name, was the main Katniss' mourner- in their age group anyway. It only hit him how few people the strange girl from the other class actually had in her life once she was gone. Jax thought it was a shame, he had always liked the girl with the bow, she had seemed interesting.

Jax and Zarren dealt with it differently, they were quiet about it at school, except for the catch-up a few minutes ago, they hadn't mentioned their completion to the trio since, what felt like, forever.

At least, that was in this run-down building.

His name would come to their lips in nightmares, in the evenings when there was bound to be one of the town folk replaying their 'triumph'.

Jax's head hit the desk with a quiet groan, _just come home already._

"It was for the best, you know," Zarren said loudly, interupting Mrs S.

"I-I'm sorry, dear?" The teacher asked, shakily.

"It was good that they got picked, I was thinking about it," The messy haired boy said, leaning back on his chair. Realising no one understood what he was talking about, he went on, "P- Peeta's in love with Katniss, yeah?"

Everyone murmered agreements, Jax had lifted his head by this point and had to hide a grin when he saw a faintly irritated look pass over his friends face;

He had found it hard to understand how it was just him that hadn't noticed the baker's infatuation for the past few years.

"So he'll go to the Games, where, by then- even by now, he'll realise she's not worth doing something stupid for," (Jax had already stressed to him his worry of Peeta sacrificing himself to save Katniss) "Beat her, and the others, and come back home." Zarren said proudly, "And find someone he actually had a chance with," He added at the end.

Silence filled the classroom, it wasn't awkward, like as if everyone was waiting for the first insult to be fired at Zarren's statement, but a silence of reflection.

It was broke by Madge's shy voice, "I don't think so, I- I think he'll just get worse; She's lovely when you know her."

A Seam boy near Jax, nicknamed by his initials of TG, scoffed, "Because he'll get to know her? I've known her since we were little and never once heard her speak."

An uncomfortable giggle from Delly started the next reply, "Well, have you ever really tried? She seemed lovely, really, really lovely."

A smile from Madge. A reply from Zarren. A reply from Meriel. Mrs Spektor. TG. Braxton. Griffin. Elnora. Jarvis. Mrs Spektor. Zarren. Delly. TG. Zarren. Mrs Spektor shouting for control.

Jax jolted out of the debate, to fix his eyes on the wide-eyed teacher.

She was red in her usually pale, hollow cheeks and shaking, "That is quite enough today. Now, today's topic is how- how the Capitol idea of T- Tracker Jackers was p- practical and well thought of."

Jax guessed someone in Mrs S' sight had opened their mouth to refuse the idea, because her next outburst had children wincing, Delly even covering her ears.

Jax sighed, and returned his head to the desk..


End file.
